


What Harvestmere Brings

by Fen_Assan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Autumn, Banter, Celebrations, Dancing, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Fun, Gen, Happy times, Harvest Festival, Humour, Romance, Spicy Pumpkins and Pretty Colours
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Assan/pseuds/Fen_Assan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Lavellan and her companions enjoy the Harvest Festival in the Hinterlands, the time of ample merriment, eating, dancing and romance. All is sweet and fluffy. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Harvestmere is the tenth month of Thedosian calendar.

Small human hands unlaced the flaps of the tent, pushed them slightly apart, and disappeared back inside. The next thing to appear were black tresses, their owner holding them back from her face as she stepped out of the tent, and finally straightened up to her full, albeit modest, height. The girl started absentmindedly braiding her hair into a casual plait, which fell softly over her collarbone, and looked about the campsite. It was peaceful, the flames flying up in the crackling, well-tended fire being the only source of sound or movement. As everyone else was apparently still asleep, the girl left behind the circle of tents closely packed together, and headed into the clearing a few feet away.

The camp on the hillside was supposed to offer a scenic view of the Hinterlands in all their autumn glory, but at present, there was sadly no view to take in. She had been promised rugged mountains painted with moss and dotted with pine trees, with narrow streams flowing down into leafy glens. She had no reason to believe all that beauty was not right there in front of her, but alas, she had yet to witness it for herself, as at the moment it was all enveloped in a thick fog.

An elven woman, who was watching the human girl from behind the trees, left her cover nimbly, but took care to deliberately step on a twig and alert the girl to her presence. The latter turned swiftly, her hand reaching for her boot where Ithilvhen knew she kept a knife. The older woman smiled and nodded her approval. 

"It is wise to be ready to protect yourself, Allyssa. Though it pains me to see this world forcing everyone to be this way, especially the young." 

"Inquisitor Lavellan," the human girl greeted her with a low nod, "It's a habit born before the Breach in the sky." She shifted into a more relaxed pose. "I've been carrying a knife since I was little. My mother took me to collect plants with her and taught me to cut them. You know she had reasons to insist I was taught to defend myself as well." There was a sadness to Allyssa's soft smile. Ithilvhen moved closer to squeeze her arm reassuringly.

"I'm glad you're with us. And I mean both, in the Inquisition and here now. Elan Ve'mal had only praise for your talents when we discussed this trip. She said you are the most promising apprentice she'd had. And I believe she has trained quite a few herbalists. And I'm telling you this because I know it won't get to your head." After a moment of avoiding it, Allyssa met the other woman's gaze, blushed cheeks betraying her emotions.

"Thank you. Herbs have always been such a big part of my life. And...can I be honest with you?" Her face cringed, as if she regretted asking the question the moment she uttered it, but Ithilvhen's "Of course" was said gently, with no offense taken. Allyssa swallowed hard nontheless before continuing.

"I know I have a task on this trip, but gathering and extracting seeds from crystal grace and royal elfroot can hardly teach me anything new. I have studied them for years, and Elan Ve'mal knows it. I think...I think I'm not here just to pick the herbs. I think it's because you and Elan are just too kind to me. Because this feels so much more like a gift rather than a task." Ithilvhen laughed warmly at the girl's conclusions.

"You got us. I guess this field trip is both, a job and an incentive, for all of us in fact. And if we're lucky, we might even enjoy more than work, but don't tell others." Her wink had Allyssa grinning happily.

"I'm so happy to be here, and so grateful for the opportunity."

"You deserved it. And we're happy to have you. I'm just sorry you're missing out on the view." Ithilvhen spread her arms and sighed, pointing at the greyness all around, though the human did not seem to mind it at all.

"Oh that's fine, I love the fog actually. The mystery of it, and the fact that it will clear up, and reveal all the hidden treasures. Look!" Ithilvhen followed the identified direction and saw a spot where the fog was breaking. It was like a hole in fabric, the bits and threads of which were hanging in the air before being thinned and then blown away entirely by the wind. The yellow-greens, rusty reds and all shades of umber were showing through. Allyssa's smile was full of anticipation and enthusiasm.

"This is going to be a wonderful trip. I can't wait to see Redcliffe village and the farms, and the forests. And the Harvest Festival! Inquisitor, it is a real treat for me to experience all this. Thank you." She noticed Ithilvhen's expression of slight discomfort at the too often repeated gratitude and added quickly, "And I'm not going to say that again." Ithilvhen put one arm around Allyssa's shoulders and gave her a gentle pull.

"You're cold, let's get to the fire. Since we were the first to wake up, might as well surprise our companions with some breakfast." The two walked together, Allyssa too shy to put her arm around Ithilvhen's waist, but her blushing revealed her appreciation of warmth Ithilvhen was happy to share.

"I'll brew some tea, I have all the dried herbs, and I've picked up a few fresh ones to spice it up." She patted the flat herb bag slung across her chest, which she wore at almost all times.

"Of course you have," Ithilvhen smiled, "I do admire your dedication, Allyssa." The gentle pink colour on the girl's cheeks turned to strawberry.

"I just love plants, that's all. And I want to be useful. Speaking of which, I think we weren't the only early birds in camp. I'm sure Master Dennet is too excited to see his family to be able to sleep." As they were nearing the centre of the camp marked by the fire, they saw the man was finishing brushing up the horses. When he noticed the women, his face wrinkled up in a happy smile, and he threw one hand in the air in a silent greeting. They returned the gesture and started unwrapping the bundles of provisions. 

As Allyssa was lifting a bucket to pour some water into the cooking pot, she heard the rustle of dry leaves underfoot and the deep grounding baritone, which hid a soft smile.

"Let me help." She nodded, smiling back to Solas, and for some reason whispered:

"Good morning." His "A good morning indeed" was said in the same whisper, as if they were sharing a secret. When the water was transferred, the elf took the pot and carried it to the fire, where Allyssa immediately went about sorting the herbs she wanted to brew. Ithilvhen, who had been facing the opposite way, was working silently and did not notice Solas come out. He caught the human girl's gaze, and she nodded and smiled her understanding as he pressed his index finger to his lips for silence. He moved, fluidly and gracefully, towards Ithilvhen. When he was almost close enough to touch her, an uproarious yawn broke the silence, immediately followed by shuffling from one side of the camp and disgusted noises from another, thus heralding the camp was fully awake now.

"Ugh, Varric! Do you have to be so loud and ruin such a lovely peaceful morning? When was the last time we've had a really quiet one?" Cassandra was approaching the campfire, already fully clad in armour, proudly wearing the Inquisition sigil on her breastplate. Varric, coming in from the opposite direction, stopped, fists on his hips, then scratched his chest a little before replying.

"The serenity's gone, Seeker. Now you'll have this dwarf's magnificence, magnified by the party mood, to bathe in." He bowed to all and each companion, especially low to scoffing Cassandara, and winked to Allyssa as he caught her eye. Ithilvhen turned just in time to see Solas' shoulders slump a bit at the interruption. Her face lit up as she grinned at her lover, grabbed his arm to look past him at the others and exclaim "Hi all!" and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss him good morning. 

"We are not here for the party, Varric," Cassandra's tone was slightly annoyed as she stood looking about the camp, left hand on the hilt of her sword. As soon as she noticed something to do, she headed towards the pile of logs to pick up some to add to the fire, her walk that powerful mix of femininity and militance. Varric snorted.

"If that's what you think, Seeker, I regret to inform you that you've read the wrong agenda. We are definitely here for the party." He sat on the crates by the fire and looked quite satisfied with both himself and the agenda. The warrior shot him a glance which could surely inflict severe damage, if not kill him outright.

"We are here to show the Inquisition's gratitude for the help the people of the Hinterlands are willing to provide us, again. Their crops will feed our soldiers and their horses will take them into battle. They deserve to see the Inquisitor in person, to host her at the Festival as a token of their appreciation. She did close all the rifts in the region and stopped the Mage-Templar war they so suffered from." Ithilvhen was biting her lip, trying to suppress both a smile and a bit of uneasiness listening to such an ardent speech about herself. She cleared her throat.

"I did not do all that single-handedly, Cassandra. We did it, and all of you helped. And we still have the biggest battle of all looming ahead, so I'm wary about celebrating the past victories." She sighed deeply, but quickly lifted her head, showing off a cheeky smile.

"And I think you should be the one to give that speech, Cassandra." Cassandra gasped at that and started muttering something barely intelligible, when Varric approached and pressed a mug of tea into her hand. She accepted it with a thank you and brought it to her lips absentmindedly, instantaneously pulling away as she burnt her tongue.

"Maker's breath, this is hot!" It sounded muffled as she pressed her fingers over her burning mouth. Varric looked very smug when he commented.

"Precisely like Maker's breath."

***

On the road to Redcliffe Farms Ithilvhen willingly surrendered her leading role to Master Dennet. He was riding proudly ahead, his trot often breaking into a canter signalling his impatience to reach his home and family. He had not seen them for almost a year, and it would have been longer still had his wife not sent Ithilvhen a private message requesting she allow the master of horses to come to the Hinterlands in person. Ithilvhen was happy to let the family meet, so the man was there to pick up the new horses his daughter Seanna had ready for the Inquisition. It was also thanks to Ithilvhen that the whole company were riding Fereldan Forders. She had decided it would be only fitting to honour Master Dennet's dedicated service by using the first ever mount she had received from him for their trip.

Well, almost all the party were riding Fereldan Forders. Varric was the sole exception. He abhorred the idea of travelling with his body too far above the ground. His feet dangling helplessly, he had told Ithilvhen, was not a dignified way of traveling for a respected dwarf. But he had insisted on accompanying them, because there was no way he would miss such a celebration. Since he utterly refused to share a horse with anyone, especially Cassandra, or ride into Redcliffe on an Avvar war nug, they had been forced to come up with a more suitable solution.

Eventually, Master Dennet had managed to procure an Anderfels Pony. The sturdy thick-necked and short-legged mount proved to be just the right size and temperament to help Varric's aversion to riding abate somewhat. He still preferred walking, both on his own two feet and on horseback, and a gentle trot was as fast as he was prepared to go. They were trotting now. Solas and Ithilvhen were riding next to each other, both looking courtly mastering the sitting trot without bouncing up and down on horseback. Cassandra was posting effortlessly, the rhythmical movement made easy by years of experience. Allyssa could count fewer years of her entire life than Cassandra had spent riding, but the girl's slight frame and natural fitness, as well as her eagerness to learn, meant Cassandra was succeeding in teaching her to ride better every day. Varric though, who was jolting most of the time, complained his physique was simply not meant for any of it.

"I swear, if this road were any bumpier, my balls would've turned into plums by now. At present, they're only half way there," he grunted.

"That is the information we did not need to know, Varric," Cassandra puffed at him. Allyssa's nose crinkled in compassion as she sucked some air in through her teeth.

"Don't worry, I'll make you some poultices when we get to the farms. We'll fix you right up," she smiled.

"You're a treasure, Minty. Though I bet applying those won't be any fun at all," the dwarf grumbled, audibly in pain. 

"You could ask Solas for assistance. He's good at healing." Varric's grimace mirrorred his disapproval of Cassandra's suggestion.

"Don't know if it'll come as a surprise, Seeker, but I don't think I want Chuckles anywhere near my balls." Cassandra rolled her eyes. "And I'm sure he shares the sentiment," Varric added quietly before speaking up again. "I much prefer Minty's handiwork to take care of my sensitive areas."

"Varric!" Cassanda exclaimed indignantly, "Leave the girl out of your dirty thoughts! She's still a child!" Varric and Allyssa exchanged a confused look, and when they took her meaning, they started speaking simultaneously. 

"Oh, I don't think he referred to..."

"Are you out of your mind, Seeker?! I'm not some kind of a pervert!"

"And I'm not a child! I'm 16!"

"I would never! Maker, Minty, I didn't mean that!" Varric turned a shocked gaze to Allyssa. She just shook her head and smiled.

"I know you didn't. It's fine." She faced Cassandra. "It's fine, Lady Seeker. Varric didn't mean it like that, there is nothing to take offense to." She exhaled slowly to compose herself after having to stand her ground. Now Cassandra was the one who looked mortified. 

"I," she stammered, "I...read your meaning wrong, Varric. I apologize, to both of you." The dwarf eyed her briefly, quickly returning his gaze to the road.

"I never thought I'd say that, but I think you might have read too many of my books, Seeker." When the warrior blushed, he added, "You know which ones I'm talking about." Having heard the agitated conversation and wary it could be another fight between Varric and Cassandra, Ithilvhen was now riding towards them.

"Everything OK?" She enquired, reining in her horse and trotting in place. Cassandra only cleared her throat in response, Allyssa gave a slightly sheepish smile, and it fell to Varric, as it often did, to come up with the explanation.

"Sure it is, your Inquisitorialness. We were just discussing how Minty's just the right age to find her a nice fella to dance with at the fair." Ithilvhen's brows shot up just as a genuine warm smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh really? How interesting." Allyssa, rosy with embarrassment, hastened to contradict.

"I wasn't...I'm not here for that!" 

"Oh honey, I'm sure they were just teasing. I do hope you'll dance and have fun at the Festival though. Just like everybody else." Ithilvhen said and smiled at her and then glanced daringly at Varric and Cassandra in turn. Varric's lips instantaneously stretched into a grin.

"Ooo, finding a dancing partner for the Seeker. This is going to be the best party ever!" Before Cassandra could answer, they were interrupted by Master Dennet reaching them at a gallop. He halted impressively only a couple of feet away from them.

"We're nearing the camp by the farms, Your Worship, but I'd be honoured if you joined me and my family. If I'm not asking too much, that is." The man stumbled at his own words, the doubt clearly written on his face. Ithilvhen was quick to make him feel at ease again.

"Of course you're not! We'll be happy to. If you don't think we'd be intruding." He shook his head almost fiercely.

"Oh no! I'd be proud." She rode closer to the horse master and pressed his arm in affirmation. From the corner of her eye, she caught Solas' proud smile as he was looking at her, and smiled back, raising her brow in a silent question. He only mouthed "Ar lath ma" and made clicking sounds to urge his horse to move along.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been sitting here unattended for way too long! I decided to take a different direction from the one originally intended, and just give the characters all the fluff and the warmth of an autumn festival. :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think, I appreciate all and any feedback. :)

From the welcoming warmth of Master Dennet’s house, Ithilvhen emerged into a perfect early autumn afternoon, climbing a small hill to indulge her senses in everything it offered. She took in the lush colours: the yellows, the reds, and the browns adorning the trees and painting the earth between the patches of grass still hanging on to its green. She did not want to close her eyes to such a pleasing sight, but they did it of their own volition as the comforting scent of autumn she so loved reached her nostrils: the sweetness of damp leaves and the bitterness of smoke. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air to the full, and savouring the tranquility. As the Inquisitor, she had long lacked that feeling. But there and then, she would allow herself, her companions, and the kind, simple people of the Hinterlands to forget about the threat of Corypheus, forget about the war, just for a short while, to come back to it all with new strength. 

A careful little cough heralded a presence behind her, which she would recognise even were it not followed by a smooth baritone.

“Vhenan. Were you seeking privacy?” It amazed her how even now, when they had been together for quite a while, and after their relationship had ceased to be a secret for the members of the Inquisition, he was still so considerate about her privacy. Which she was not used to anyway, being born and raised in an aravel, and accosted by everyone and anyone since she had woken up half-dead, with the bright green mark glowing on her wrist. She could not believe _that_ had only been a couple of years past, it felt almost like a lifetime. 

“Not from you,” she smiled and, without turning to Solas, her eyes still shut, extended her hand in his direction. She sighed contentedly as his wiry arms wrapped around her from behind. “How is it inside?” 

“Cassandra is discussing all matters of provisions and transportation with Seanna, and Varric is praising Elaina’s cooking, at the same time introducing Allyssa to the local folklore he is making up on the spot. Master Dennet confirms it all without batting an eye. So I would say, it's quite good?” Hearing his voice coloured with amusement, she imagined the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and was overcome with an irresistible urge to kiss him. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips onto his, melting into it, ravishing his response, eager and tender at the same time. 

“We should be moving out to reach Redcliffe village while there’s still light,” she said looking up at Solas, but her face apparently displayed her own disagreement with the plan. 

“You don't seem too eager to go,” his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I thought you would enjoy it - being in the nature, especially now when it looks so beautiful.”

“I am,” she sighed, “it’d just be so much better could we steal away and enjoy the nature without the others. And without the speech I have to make,” she added with a miserable expression. 

“I’ll be there with you,” he smiled reassuringly and tightened the embrace. “You only need to say a few words of greeting and gratitude. They will appreciate you being here in and of itself.”  
“Let's get the others started.” She nodded, sighing, in acceptance of her fate. Solas did not budge though.

“Stay another moment.” He kissed her, slowly, softly, his tongue only ghosting around hers. “Look,” he held her by the shoulders and turned her around, to face the landscape, and pointed at a spot in the air. 

Ithilvhen soon realised what he was drawing her attention to: there were gossamer threads floating in the air, carried by the breeze. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Solas making a gesture with his right hand, as his left remained warmly clasped over her shoulder. When she searched for the threads again, she gasped. Solas’ magic had transformed them into the perfect nets, as if only just spun by a spider, which held on to their form as they flew on the wind. In the soft sunshine they flickered like silver.

“How did you do that?” she gave an awed whisper.

“Magic,” he replied smugly, his chest vibrating with soft laughter. 

“Do it again,” she giggled at her own silly question, settling her head in the crook of his neck to enjoy the show. 

 

***

 

As they approached the village, Allyssa slowed her horse to marvel at the cliffs which gave Redcliffe its name, painted by the setting sun an even warmer coppery hue. 

“Looks a lot better than the last time I was here,” Varric commented. 

“The Inquisition has been sending help to this region,” Cassandra informed, as Allyssa suspected mostly for her sake, for the others must have been better aware of the Inquisition activities. “The Mage-Templar War took its toll on this part, with both refugees and actual attacks on the locals.” The Seeker sounded apologetic, as if she was herself somehow responsible for displacing people, or sorry they had been unable to help more. 

“The war though, although a horrible event,” Solas’ soothing voice came from the back where he rode next to Ithilvhen, “has done some good to the area. The fires which burned in the fields during fighting have proved beneficial for the soil. This year, it yielded a harvest the likes of which the locals have not seen in years.” Allyssa reprimanded herself internally for, being a herbalist, not guessing the effect herself before Solas mentioned it. She decided to pay closer attention to the conversations, especially when Solas spoke, not to miss something new she could learn. 

“Didn't know you were also a horticulturist, Chuckles,” Varric scoffed.

“I find pleasure in knowing about many things, Master Tethras,” Solas replied, unfazed. 

“I do hope, for the Inquisitor’s sake, that’s not the only thing you find pleasure in.”

“Varric!” The indignant outcry came from the Seeker, who was shooting daggers at the dwarf. 

“I can assure you it is not,” both Solas and Ithilvhen answered simultaneously, Ithilvhen biting her lip in amusement and Solas smirking smugly. Cassandra was the one to blush profusely, quite closely followed by embarrassed Allyssa herself. 

In the village, the warmth with which people met their party was amazing. Allyssa realised it was all thanks to the Inquisitor herself, who was recognised and greeted with happy cheers and big smiles. She seemed a little sheepish at all the attention at first, but when she got to the roughly built wooden platform raised especially for the Festival, her bearing changed. She was not just a woman then, not a Dalish elf, but the very symbol and image of a powerful organisation. She was their Herald. Their Inquisitor. Their protector, and their Leader. And she was good at that. Although Allyssa suspected that such public displays were not easy for the Inquisitor, she always succeeded in inspiring people. Allyssa noticed the weak but relieved smile she gave Solas the moment she stepped down, to the thunderous roar of the crowd. Allyssa thought Inquisitor Lavellan looked like she just wanted to be Ithilvhen for a while now. 

Those who lived in the Hinterlands were simple people, farmers mostly, and their festivities were neither sophisticated, nor formal. It seemed to suit most of the visitors from the Inquisition, probably with the exception of Lady Cassandra. She took this opportunity to do more work, addressing people on important issues, and receiving mostly disinterested looks as people slowly made their way in the opposite direction. Which just happened to be where Varric was telling one of his stories. 

Allyssa searched the crowd for Ithilvhen, and found her standing by a food stand, the one with sweet pies, laughing with Solas as they shared a pastry. The young woman felt torn. She wanted to hear Varric’s tale: even if it was the one she had heard before, he always thought of different jokes and new details which made any new reiteration still exciting. And then she also wanted to taste all the wonderful foods which gave off mouthwatering smells. And meet locals. And do something to show the Inquisitor her gratitude for taking her under her wing. And, no matter what she had said to Varric earlier, she did want to dance. But she looked at the spot where the Seeker stood alone, clad in her armour among people in their festive, comfortable clothes, delicately nibbling at an ear of sweet corn, and looking like she did not belong. 

While Allyssa was wracking her brain to come up with a plan which would comply with at least several points of her interest, a man climbed the makeshift stage and announced the Couplet Competition. To her surprise, there came many excited shouts in response, which apparently meant it was a popular entertainment. A few men started moving through the crowd towards the raised platform, spurred on by the cheering and the patting on their backs. Allyssa darted a look in Varric’s direction, but he was still too engrossed in his tale to have heard the announcement. Cassandra seemed to have missed it as well, now busy trying to find a proper spot to dispose of the corn cob. Ithilvhen and Solas were nowhere to be seen. Allyssa had to take it all into her own hands. 

The girl went straight to Varric’s table. She could not know if the story had finished, but she reached them just at the moment the people around the dwarf started laughing. 

“Minty!” he beckoned, noticing her among others, “come join us!” 

“I’m sorry I missed the story, dear Varric, but what do you say to treating us all to some rhymes? A competition is just about to start.” She gave him a most radiant smile she could muster, wondering how big of a piece of his mind he would give her later for this. He had no way to escape the contest now, with so many onlookers egging him on. While one of them made a quick job of explaining the dwarf the rules, Varric was eyeing Allyssa, a smirk playing on his lips as he stroked his chin. She was certain he had just planned out his revenge.

“Well-well,” he finally said, having finished his ale and slamming the tankard onto the table, “this does sound interesting. Poetry is not usually my thing, but I’ll be happy to represent the Inquisition.” Allyssa gasped: he had taken the words out of her mouth, the words which were meant to be her final argument to persuade him. He winked at her, immediately pleased with himself for busting at least a part of her game. 

Convincing Cassandra to witness the competition was easy, and left Allyssa feeling only a slight pang of conscience. She appealed to the Seeker's sense of duty for the Inquisition, although in truth she knew Cassandra’s weakness for poetry, and believed she would in fact truly enjoy it. 

Having rushed the older woman towards the growing crowd in front of the stage and promised to join her soon, Allyssa went to fill a wooden bowl with different foods on offer, to finally have a taste of the local delicacies. She did an impressive job of separating a portion of Fereldan lamb from some pea stew in her bowl by constructing a wall of baked potatoes between them. 

When she made to finally join Cassandra, reaching her looked impossible - so many were the people between them, cheering or jeering the contestants before the challenge even started properly. Allyssa kept walking around, standing on her toes to catch a glimpse of Cassandra and try to attract her attention, but the girl’s modest height made it unlikely Cassandra would even notice her to come to her aid. She grunted in frustration and threw a chunk of potato into her mouth. It would not help the situation, but it was a shame to let the food go cold. 

“You want to get closer to the stage?” An impressively large man with an unexpectedly delicately trimmed for a farmer beard, cracked a smile at her. 

“No. Yes. Ugh. I mean I need to get to… “ The question of how to refer to Cassandra gave Allyssa pause. She dared not call the Seeker her friend, or even a colleague, she felt like she had not yet earned that honour. She huffed, flustered. “... someone. The tall lady with short dark hair. I would point if I could actually see her,” she blushed, “but she was near the stage last I saw.” The man scanned the crowd, and at some point his jaw slacked and his eyebrows lifted. 

“You don't mean the one wearing the Inquisition armour?” Allyssa nodded quickly and enthusiastically: Cassandra was surely the only woman clad in steel with that sigil there. Or the only one wearing armour at all. The man ignored Allyssa completely, his gaze glued to the spot Cassandra must have stood at. “You don't mean Seeker Pentaghast,” he said quieter and with a kind of reverence, not even trying to make it sound like a question. 

“You know Lady Cassandra?” she asked naively. 

“The Right Hand of the Divine Justinia. One of the advisors to the Inquisitor. I’ve heard of her. But not acquainted.” His gaze finally returned to Allyssa. “And you?”

“Oh I am. Acquainted, that is. I’m with the Inquisition myself.” She blushed a little at the realisation how grand a thing it was to say for her - a young, unimportant girl, but quickly gathered her wits. She cradled her bowl full of yet steaming food, pressing it to her side with the left hand, and extended her right, straightening up for a proper greeting. “I’m Allyssa. Trainee herbalist.” The man’s eyebrows crept up, but he shook her hand without hesitation. 

“Pleased to meet you, Allyssa the trainee herbalist of the Inquisition. I am Braden. Let's get you to Lady Cassandra then. Passing through!” His announcement had little effect, but Allyssa soon realised it was more of a warning so those who heard it could prepare for his large strong hands patting people's backs and grabbing shoulders to turn them aside, and the good-natured jibes he threw left and right. Most everyone seemed to know him, and like him at that, for Allyssa scarcely heard a complaint as they proceeded through the thick crowd, the narrow corridor closing up behind them as soon as they reached Cassandra.

“Thank you,” she turned to Braden, and in response to the Seeker's enquiring gaze hurried to introduce her practically savior. She started with Cassandra, but before she could say the man’s name, he offered his hand, stating it himself. 

“Braden. I am honored to meet you.” He looked the Seeker straight in the eyes and she noticed something akin to curiosity flicker through Cassandra’s face as the older woman gave a quick look at that bear of a man. She looked away and cleared her throat, focusing on the stage where a line of participants was being introduced to the audience. It seemed a huge part of the village’s male population was about to take part. 

“This is a very curious competition. Very popular it seems,” Cassandra offered civilly, to whom Allysa was unsure as both herself and Braden stood by her side, but the girl herself was busy with a lamb shank at the moment. 

“Oh yes, very much so,” Braden replied, “many men regard it a matter of their honour to participate, as many others - a pissing about opportunity, but it is popular indeed.” 

“You are none of those two categories, I take it,” Cassandra said with a hint of reproach, casting him a side glance. Braden grinned in response. 

“I admit to preferring slightly more refined poetry,” he smirked. Allyssa looked up at Braden with interest, which Cassandra seemed to share, if her stare was any indication.

“Besides, I couldn't abandon my role in this competition,” he added.

“And what is that role?” Cassandra was definitely interested.

“Well mocking my brother, of course,” he laughed. Having noticed the Seeker's derisive scoff of disapproval, he explained with a warm smile, pointing at a man similar to himself but of somewhat slighter build on the stage. “He’s rubbish, and won’t get past the first round. It’s a family tradition,” he shrugged, still smiling at the Seeker, and winking to Allyssa. They turned their attention to the first round in silence. 

“Your rhyming challenge for this round is… “fields”!” Allyssa watched in amusement as the men on stage wracked their brains - or called for their muses - to come up with the required poetic lines. Some, to her astonishment and pleasure, were quite good. She cheered as loud as she could for Varric’s creation.

 _“The fields of barley, ripe and gold,  
‘re a bloody pleasure to behold,”_

the dwarf cited with a hand extended towards the actual fields for dramatic effect. Cassandra admitted with a smirk that it was not so bad. 

“A friend of yours?” Braden asked. “He’s got it,” he nodded approvingly. 

_“He lay in the fields,  
A pumpkin - his shield,”_

the next contender declared. 

“ _Shields!”_ Braden shouted mirthfully. “My brother,” he explained, laughing. 

He turned out to be wrong after all: his brother had endured all the way into the third round, when he finally left the stage to Cassandra and Allyssa’s applause. The Seeker seemed to have warmed up towards Braden, his friendly demeanor, his jokes which showed a very decent sense of humour, and his comments on the couplets which proved his knowledge and understanding of poetry. 

Much to his unobstructed pride and glee paired with generosity, Varric, together with a farmer from Redcliffe, was proclaimed a joint winner of the competition. As the crowd started dissipating, moving back to the food stands and ale casks, the dwarf joined the faithful members of his audience. 

“Master Tethras, congratulations,” Allyssa gave him a mocking little bow and a sincere wide grin. “Allow me to introduce you to your new fan, Ser Braden.” The cornersof Varric’s mouth tugged in a flashy smile as he had to throw his head all the way back to look the huge man into his face. 

“You couldn't have picked anyone smaller, Minty, could you?” The men shook hands to the accompaniment of companionable laughter. 

“Not a Ser though, just Braden,” the man corrected. “I ceased being a knight a long time ago.” All three members of the Inquisition directed their gazes at the large man, each with a question or comment of their own imparted simultaneously.

“You were a knight?” Cassandra brimmed with interest.

“How do you stop being one?” Allyssa wondered quite childishly.

“I sense a story here,” Varric started patting his pockets in search of blank parchment. 

Braden was not in the least taken aback by their reactions. He smiled broadly, and unclasped his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“I don't mind telling it. But the story is at least a-few-tankards-long. Or goblets,” he turned to face Cassandra, clearly alluding to the fact that a lady of her making likely preferred wine to ale. 

“I…” the Seeker hesitated, a blush creeping up her high cheekbones, making her scars look more prominent. 

“Unless you mind being put into a story by this ridiculously talented dwarf, I’ll be all ears, my friend. I’m entirely free for the evening.” Varric swayed a little on his feet, completely oblivious to Cassandra’s mounting embarrassment which did not escape Allyssa’s attention. 

“No you’re not,” she nearly screamed, surprising not only others but herself. She continued, doing her best to ignore the shade of pink spreading across her face. “We have something to do, remember?” She was having a full-blown battle inside, simultaneously trying to come up with a suitable reason to pull Varric away, and use her facial expressions to let him know she desperately needed his help on that front. “The important… Inquisition business.” She was failing spectacularly: all three just stood there watching her with various degrees of bewilderment. “We discussed it in camp,” she attempted miserably. It was clear Varric still had no idea what she was driving at, but at least he finally took pity on her. 

“Of course. Important Inquisition business, how could I forget?” he slapped himself on the forehead quite unconvincingly. “Our apologies, Braden. Hope we'll catch you later, but we apparently must leave now.” _Oh no_ , thought Allyssa, forcing a quick smile.

“Not all of us! Lady Cassandra can stay and enjoy some wine and conversation. It’s just you and I that are needed for this particular matter.” She thought she caught a glimpse of understanding on Braden’s face as he smiled softly and hopefully. Varric scratched his head, looked at the large man, then at the Seeker, and suddenly swirled back to Allyssa.

“Oh _that_ matter! Why didn't you say so right away?” He turned to Cassandra. “Gotta be done, Seeker. Make sure you remember the story in details, I’m really curious!” The dwarf turned to shake Braden’s hand. “Enjoy your evening!” Cassandra looked slightly ill at ease at their abrupt leaving as Allyssa said her goodbyes as well, but when she turned to look back, Braden had already managed to put a shy smile on the Seeker's face. 

“So what do we do now, Minty? Can't be seen just having fun somewhere else now.”

“Dunno. Find Ithilvhen? See if anything actually needs to be done?” Allyssa sighed deeply, satisfied with the success of the mission. 

“Not a bad idea. She might know a quiet spot to hide and have a drink while the Seeker’s busy flirting.” He grinned as she took his offered arm to hook hers around it at the elbow, and added, “You know what, Minty? I’m a bit hurt it wasn't me who found her a dancing partner. But seems like you’ve done a good job.” 

“Can we fetch some baked apples on the way?” She asked conspiratorially, squeezing his arm and giggling. 

“With extra cinnamon,” Varric confirmed seriously.


End file.
